


shelter me

by manusinistra



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: F/F, gratuitous descriptions of movie scenes, jinsoul is a flake, very brief olivia appearance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 17:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20085715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manusinistra/pseuds/manusinistra
Summary: Yves hates horror movies and getting stood up. Somehow, it's a good night anyway.





	shelter me

**Author's Note:**

> This started with a cc prompt and I hadn't written my favorite pairing in a while so here we are. On the shorter side, but hopefully you enjoy anyway. As always, I'd love to hear thoughts.

Jinsoul cancels when Yves is already at the movie theater.

To her credit, she apologies. 

Well. First she texts _I found such a good dog at the park!_ and sends a string of pictures with the (admittedly cute, situationally annoying) dog. Then comes a stream-of-consciousness narration about how late it’s gotten, ending with the conclusion that she can’t make it across town before the movie starts.

At which point, finally, she apologizes.

_You do remember I’m only here as a favor to you_, Yves types, inching forward in the concession line. 

She gets a sad, pouting selfie in response. She scoffs, because Jinsoul uses that way too often and she’s not at all scoffing to avoid admitting it works anyway.

Yves reaches the front of the line with a decision to make: see the movie sans Jinsoul, or cut her losses and head home. 

Home is the logical choice, because she hates watching movies alone. She also hates horror movies, which this is. 

She hates seeing them at night – another check – and she hates seeing them in the theater, where the screen is giant and immersive and inescapable. The absolute peak of her hatred is seeing a horror movie at night in a theater alone, because it’s terrifying and she can’t even distract herself by complaining to someone about how much she hates horror movies. 

Really, it’s a testament to her love for Jinsoul (that ungrateful asshole of a friend) that she set foot in this theater in the first place. 

It’d be easy to bail. Being alone means there’s no one to judge her, so the only thing keeping her here is the stubborn desire not to waste a ticket she’s already paid for. 

But you should never underestimate stubbornness. Yves is nothing if not committed, even when the commitment is just to her own pride.

“Hey, buy something or get out of the way,” says the kid behind the register, with zero sympathy for Yves’ internal deliberations. 

That seals her decision, because there’s no way some punk kid with a ridiculous name (her nametag reads Olivia Hye; what even is that) is going to get the better of her.

So, though Yves has ordered the same thing at every movie since she was twelve, she takes a long minute to debate out loud whether coke or cherry coke is better given the unique qualities of this movie. Watches the kid’s frown deepen into an impressive scowl.

That makes Yves feel better, so by the time she slides into her seat she’s almost forgotten her bad mood. Then she realizes the only two empty seats in the theater surround her assigned one. In a sea of couples looking for excuses to lean into each other, she is emphatically alone. 

Thanks universe, she thinks. Way to make me look like a loser. 

She’s got time to kill, so she scribbles _I’m still mad_ over Jinsoul’s pouting face and sends the picture back. 

Jinsoul replies with another selfie, this time involving a deeper pout and more dramatic eyebrows. Follows it up with a wall of pleading face emoji.

The lights choose that moment to dim, so Yves sighs and shuts off her phone.

She’ll forgive Jinsoul tomorrow, after some groveling and food-based bribery, but for the time being she’s still annoyed. 

It doesn’t help that, when the opening preview rolls, it’s for something dark and slasher-y. Yves is tense in her seat from the first minor chord, so when something brushes against her legs she jerks it back.

Only to realize it’s just a girl, sliding into the seat at Yves’ side. She smiles, immune to both the terrifying preview and the tension radiating off of Yves.

“Hey, are you alone too? My friends were busy but I’m so excited for this I had to see it opening weekend.”

“My friend didn’t show up,” Yves says, not even trying to suppress how annoyed she is. 

“Maybe we can be movie friends then. I’m Haseul.”

She gives a cute little wave, and then an on-screen explosion throws light over the theater. It illuminates Haseul’s face, and the fact that this girl is _pretty_ penetrates the haze of Yves’ irritation. 

Yves sits up straighter. Be charming not grumpy, she tells herself.

“Yves. I’d love to be movie friends. I’ll even share my armrest, if you ask nice.”

“Oh, so it’s yours now?”

“Mhm.” Yves leans a little closer, testing, like she’s about to share a secret. Haseul mirrors the lean, and a spark of expectation skitters through her at how willingly Haseul gives up personal space. “Everyone knows the first person to sit down gets full armrest rights.”

Haseul laughs, throwing her head back, decibels louder than is polite. Yves watches the sound vibrate along her neck, the skin smooth and pale and very kissable. 

Maybe this night won’t be a total bust. 

;;

They settle into easy, shallow conversation as the previews cycle through the usual suspects (a Marvel movie, a Christmas movie, something where aliens attack Japan).

There’s a good vibe going, Haseul sneaking glances at Yves while Yves plots ways to turn a shared armrest into accidental brushing of arms. 

And then the movie has to go and ruin things.

You see, Yves hates horror movies for a reason. She’s terrible at them. Really, impressively bad. Just cannot sit through them like a normal human being. 

It gets worse when there’s a girl in the mix: Yves’ game evaporates, overcome by the desire to hide in whatever warm body is closest regardless of how silly she looks. (As long as it’s not a dude. Terrified Yves still has some lines.)

So, as the previews finish and the film’s title flashes, blood red and dripping against a black background, Yves gets apprehensive. She tells herself that it’ll be better this time, that she’s a year older and braver than she was for her last failed attempt at a horror movie. Maybe that will make the difference. 

But, as always, the first jump scare has her white-knuckling the arm rest. At the second she almost screams, redirecting into a strangled squeak when she remembers there’s a cute girl at her elbow. 

Judging by the concerned look Haseul sends her way, the scream might have been a better choice.

“You doing ok?”

Haseul gets closer to whisper the question, and her proximity is distracting enough that Yves forgets the movie for a second.

This would generally be a positive thing, forgetting about a horror movie, but the second Yves loses is the one right before the slasher claims his first victim. So she could not be less prepared for a monstrous, chainsaw-armed figure to explode into the frame, hacking his way through a side character’s leg. 

Out of instinct, Yves hurls her body as far from screen as it can go. She’s angled toward Haseul, so this means that her face ends up buried in Haseul’s shoulder.

She stays there, frozen, until the squelching sound effects fade. 

At that point reason returns but Yves wishes it hadn’t, because she’s just accidentally gotten to second base with a stranger. A cute, chatty, potentially willing stranger, and wow is this going to tank her chances. 

She debates just hiding in Haseul’s shoulder for the rest of the movie. On the one hand, Haseul is warm. On the other, every second Yves stays pressed against her makes this more embarrassing.

She wastes some more time wondering if she’s a good enough actress to feign passing out, then finally, cautiously, raises her head.

Haseul is watching her, amusement clear.

“Um. I’m sorry.”

“No, go ahead. Use me to hide. I’ll protect you from the big bad movie monster.”

“Psh, that was a one-time thing,” Yves says, trying to save face. It doesn’t work, since the slasher has found a second victim and a new spray of blood has her ducking down into Haseul again before she’s even finished the sentence. 

Yves fantasizes about leaving right then. Getting up, shoving her way in front of the dozen spectators between her and the aisle, and never setting foot in this theater again. 

But Haseul pushes up the arm rest, offering her entire side for Yves to hide in, and it would be rude to refuse such a kind gesture. 

Yves settles against her. Hesitantly at first but as the movie ramps up to the final showdown she’s clutching Haseul’s arm for dear life.

Some girl sets a trap for the chainsaw dude – Yves has very little sense of plot, given that she's spent half the movie with her eyes shut – and everything about the scene communicates impending doom. There are ominous flickering lights, the camera tilts into an uncomfortable angle, and the guitar riff Yves has come to think of as “murder imminent” gets going in the background. 

Haseul takes her arm back, and ok. Yves was probably cutting off her circulation.

It’s fine. No big.

It’s not like Yves was depending on that touch to keep from spiraling into the kind of abject terror that leads you to spend the rest of your life rocking back and forth in a padded room.

Then Haseul’s arm loops around Yves, hand stroking over her back and shoulder.

“You really don’t like scary movies, do you?” Haseul whispers.

Yves would reply, but the terror has squeezed everything else out of her. The ability to feel embarrassment, the capacity for speech.

The last of her awareness is spent realizing: Haseul makes all this a fraction less bad. 

When the lights come on, it’s the first time Yves has ever been sad to see a horror movie end. The atmosphere is suddenly, blindingly awkward, because now she has to deal with the fact that she’s been clinging to a random girl for the past two hours.

They walk out slowly, silence heavy between them.

“Do you need a ride,” Yves says, because maybe having a car will earn her some points back.

“Nah, I drove. Thanks for the offer though.” 

Haseul rummages through her bag, maybe looking for keys, but even after she finds them she makes no move to leave. 

There’s something that might be a moment, Haseul looking at her unsurely as Yves tries to read her expression. It might be interest, or it might just be friendly concern for that weird girl who freaked out over a movie.

Yves would usually hang back, play the percentages, but she’s so failed at smoothness all night that she figures this is her one shot. What she’s about to do is undoubtedly stupid, but it’s not like she has a good impression to compromise. 

So she kisses Haseul, a quick press of lips.

When she steps back Haseul looks shocked, and Yves hopes that it’s the good kind instead of the homophobe-who-just-got-kissed-by-a-girl-and-is-about-to-punch-you kind. 

Because Yves commits, she follows up with:

“I had a really nice time, and I hate horror so I can say 100% it was you and not the movie. Maybe I could have your number, if you’d be up for seeing me again?” Haseul continues to stare, open-mouthed and wordless. “Or not, that’s fine too.”

Yves turns to go, wondering if she’ll get a flat on the way home to complete the trifecta of her least favorite things (embarrassment, rejection, late night car failure).

Only she doesn’t get far. Haseul grabs her face and spins her back around, standing up on tiptoes to kiss her. It’s still brief, but Yves can feel more this time – the pressure of Haseul’s mouth, the teasing flicker of a tongue. 

Haseul tugs at her lip before breaking away.

“The first time was too fast. I needed a better sample.”

“Are you insulting my kissing technique?”

Haseul pushes her phone in to Yves' hand, open to the new contact screen.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you plenty of opportunities to do better.”

**Author's Note:**

> twt: [@leaderline97](https://twitter.com/leaderline97)  
cc: [@leaderline97](https://curiouscat.me/leaderline97)


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